jr.^ 



ITbe Siren of tbe MOO&0 



■by- 



George MACDONALD MAJOR 




BROOKLYN 

Ernest J. Chapman 

1903 



^be Siren of tbe Woo&a 



BY- 



GEORGE MACDONALD MAJOR 




BROOKLYN 

Ernest J. Chapman 

1903 



-'If^^ 



THE LiLRAl-xY Of 
CONGRESS, 


Two Copies 


Received 


JUN1T 


1903 


1 Copyright tiur> | 
(fcLASS ^ XXc. Nc. 

COPY a. ] 



COPYRIGHT, 1903 
tY GEORGE MACDONALD MAJOR 



The Siren of the Woods 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



Zhc Siren of tbe Moobs* 



PART FIRST. 
I. 

' The darkness wraps the forest 'round, 

Oh Mother, Hke a cloak, 
I hear the tree-toad's echoed sound 

From yonder splintered oak ; 
Is there no other living thing?" 
It was a child who spoke. 

II. 

The grey clouds scud along the sky 
Like wild fowl flying South, 

The moon cusps both are pointing high, 
As if portending drouth, 

The shaded orb is like a ball, 
Held in a silvern mouth. 

III. 
Ob Mother, dear, I fear," spake on 

The child," the awful dark, 
Most of the stars from Heaven are gone, 

I see no fireflies spark ; 
There is a shudder in the wind. 

The woods are frightened, — hark !" 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



IV. 

It swelled upon the trembling air, 

Half terror, half in sorrow, 
Such ne'er, before, did Echo bear, 

Or Sound, for utterance, borrow. 
From vocal chords of bird or beast 

Or man to utter horror. 

V. 

A pale and greenish, golden glow, 
Gleamed faintly 'round the oak, 

Sepulchral, cold, borne to and fro ; 
The sound within it woke. 
'* Oh Mother, hear that voice again !" 
All vanished as she spoke. 

VI. 

"Hush, child, 'tis but the meteor light. 
That shines o'er swamp and damp. 

Or, p'rhaps more bright on moonless night, 
It was a firefly's lamp. 

Here is our journey's end and there 
I see your father's camp." 

VII. 
They spy the white tent through the leaves. 

They watch the pine knots burning. 
Whose flame in golden billows heaves. 

The spot to daylight turning. 
And, by the blaze, a moment more 

The longed-for sire discerning. 

VIII. 
Oh merry was the party there ! 

And hearty was the greeting, 
And great surprise that Love should dare 

Such risk to run for meeting ! 
From far and near of woodland cheer, 

The best was spread for eating. 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



IX 

The fish had in the near-by lakes, 
That Morn in beauty sped, 

And juicy were the venison steaks, 
And Hght the toothsome bread,, 

And mugs of beaded ale they quaffed, 
And rapt the moments fled. 

X. 

And when the meal was o'er, the Child 
Rehearsed the fearsome tale : 

"My Grandam told the legend wild," 
Said one, and turning pale, 

" It is the vision of the woods, 
The harbinger of bale. 

XL 
•' But not to thee, delightful Child, 
No dangers can befall, 
The pure in heart, the undefiled ; 

The wormwood and the gall. 
Is in the drink of those who sin, 
Whose deeds the heart appall. 

XIL 
"The oak-tree is a cunsed tree, 
Whose leafy limbs once bent. 
To hang the body, willingly, 

Whose soul was innocent. 
The lightning bolt its life bereft 
The winds its branches rent. 

XIII. 
" It was the daughter of the Squire 
Who perished madly there ; 
With Beauty in her eyes' blue fire. 

And Youth in her bright hair. 
Oh, malisons on the savage hearts, 
That saw and did not spare ! 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



XIY. 

' And still upon a certain night, 

Around that tree is seen, 
A circle of unearthly light. 

In green and golden sheen, 
And wailings with unnatural voice. 
But few know what they mean. 

XV. 

'These few, whom Fate has marked for doom, 

See standing in the place, 
The lady risen from her tomb, 

Apparelled in such grace 
They fall love-smitten at her feet, 

And beg for her embrace. 

XVI. 

* 'Tis Sorcery binds them with its spell. 

Else would they see instead, 
The azure smoke and flames of Hell, 

The skeleton of the dead, 
Even as she rotted on the tree, 

Long after life had fled. 

XVII. 
' She lures them on, and round them casts 
The chains of Love unblest. 
Their lives with dread caresses blasts, 

She gives their souls no rest. 
Oh, never stay, but speed away, 
As from a leprous pest !" 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



FART SECOND. 

I. 

The man walked blindly to his doom, 

That memorable night ; 
The skies were ominous with gloom, 

He would not read aright, 
The prophecies of cloud and winds. 

That warned his headlong flight. 

II. 

There was a message in the stars, 
Had he observed their scroll ; 

The warning of the sickly Mars, 
Was token to his soul ; 

He would not heed, he would not read. 
But sped on to his goal. 

III. 
He would not heed, he would not read, 

But to his destiny dashed, 
The ways of Fate he trod with speed, 

As though by demons lashed ; 
So Folly dares with hardihood. 

Where Virtue stands abashed. 

IV. 

He saw the glow around the tree, 
Like charnel fire it gleamed, 

Or phosphorescence of the sea, 
Its icy lustre streamed ; 

No rays of stars e'er shone so cold, 
Or with such glitter beamed. 



Y. 
But standing by the haunted tree, 

He saw a woman's form, 
The light her aureole seemed to be, 

A halo and a charm ; 
And shewas fair exceedingly ! 

It made his bosom warm. 

YI. 

Her eyes were blue as sapphires are, 

Her cheeks, peonies pale, 
Her figure, like a clouded star, 

Shone through its filmy veil, 
And to her feet her tresses streamed, 

Like a comet's yellow trail. 

YII. 
Her garments were as light as air, 

Hued Spring's divinest green. 
Her ivory neck and arms were bare, 

Her snowy feet were seen 
In golden sandals shod and were 

A lovely sight I ween. 

YIII. 
He stood transfixed, to him she turned, 

Her tapering hands outreaching, 
And in her stellar eyes there burned, 

A light of love beseeching. 
Oh, who could see the vision fair. 

And heed cold Wisdom's teaching ! 

IX. 

Within the circle he advanced. 

Of the phantasmal glow, 
His heart spell-bound, his mind entranced 

W^hat could he think or know 
Of Heaven that warned him, from above. 

Or Earth or Hell below ? 



10 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



X. 

The past and future were a blank, 

All other claims, forgot, 
He only of her beauty drank, 

And, rooted to the spot, 
His only fear to close his eyes 

And opening see her not. 

XL 

His arms embraced her yielding waist. 

Her willing lips he kissed, 
Henceforth his life with woe were rife, 

Unless with her at tryst. 
She led him on by fairy paths. 

But where he never wist. 

XH. 

She led him on through fairy bowers, 

Into a sunny land, 
To spend with her the golden hours, 

Where darkness never spanned. 
As with a bridge, for Night to cross, 

With Day on either hand. 

xni. 

She fed him on ambrosial dews, 

From asphodels distilled, 
Whose essences the sirens use. 

To grant to whom they willed. 
The largess of unfading Youth 

To their enchanted guild. 

XIV. 

Within the vale a palace was 

Of onyx and of pearls, 
Whose roof was ribbed with rainbow glass. 

Cut from the sea-shells whorls ; 
Outside parterres of daffodils 

And founts in silverj^ swirls. 



H 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



XV. 

Inside each dream of Luxury, 
That Wealth and Art combined, 

Could fashion most deliciously, 
Was in the place enshrined, 

To wake and whet the Appetite 
The Senses and the Mind. 

XVI. 

With velvet on the scented floors, 

And arras hanging free 
On marble walls and gilded doors, 

With tales of chivalry 
Enwoven, lit by crystal lamps 

With curious filigree. 

XVII. 
And furniture of sculptured teak. 

And ebony and gold, 
With paintings rare, whose subjects speak 

The storied loves of old. 
With every charm that Youth could crave, 

Or Beauty could unfold. 

XVIII. 

And jeweled harps and carven lyres, 

Were played by fairy powers. 
That Music's soul, with soft desires, 

Might thrill the winged hours. 
And lend the perfect grace to Time, 

That fragrance gives to flowers. 

XIX. 

On shelves of sandal wood a feast 

Was garnished for the mind, 
The lore of all the occult East, 

In stately tomes enshrined. 
And all sweet tales of Troubadours, 

And poems Love designed. 



13 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



XX. 

" Here let us live for Love alone, 
Unmarred by Age or Change," 

She said, "Nor Pain nor Sorrow's moan, 
Shall ever near us range. 

Nor cold Mistrust, nor jarring thought, 
E'er heart from heart estrange. 

XXI. 

** And I shall be Love's acolyte. 

And you shall be his priest. 
This dome shall be his Temple's site, 

And ne'er till Time has ceased. 
The incense on his altar bright. 

Be fireless or decreased. 

XXIL 

" We shall be free as wind and sea, 

And one with Nature's joy. 
No spectral fears, from dead men's biers, 

Our spirits shall annoy ; 
Th' inheritors of Nature's grace, 

Her praises our employ. 

XXHL 
*' All beauteous things that fly or run, 
Shall minister to us, 
The glorious children of the sun, 

And Earth's love, amorous, 
Ere Man betrayed fell 'neath the shade 
Of Priestcraft's incubus." 



13 



THB SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



PART THIRD. 
I. 

Was it a dream that weirdly stole 

Upon him while he slept ? 
The guardian angel of his soul, 

It may have been, that kept 
Such close control upon his soul, 

It had been lost except. 

II. 
At vesper chime, as men mark time, 

He crossed a shining stream, 
Before him fringed by flowering lime, 
A sun-lit road did seem. 
** When ha-ve I trod this road ?" he thought. 
And then recalled his dream. 

III. 
Down the long vista and between 

The lime and almond trees, 
He walked and saw a golden sheen. 

Warm, tremulous, as the breeze, 
And at the end a dimpled child, 

In tears upon her knees. 

lY. 

"Why do you weep, my little dear ? 

And what is that you hold ?" 
*' A bird," she answered, " reverend sir. 

But it's dead and cold." 
She came to him, " I fear you not, 

Because vou are so old." 



14 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



Y. 
"I am not old, the man replied, 

" For I am young and gay." 
" My grandsire, who just left my side, 
His hair is thick and gray, 
And yours is thin and white and yet, 
He is so old, they say. 

VI. 
'* Your hair is white on head and cheek 
Your face is lined and thin, 
Your voice sounds weak, whene'er you speak. 

It trembles like your chin ; 
And yet I would not contradict, 
For it might be a sin. 

YII. 

" My grandsire, though, is eighty years, 

And he is old for true." 
The artless maid had dried her tears, 

" I hear him coming through 
The bushes, I can see him now. 

And he will talk to you." 

VIII. 
A weazened, bent old man he was, 

Dressed in a suit of green. 
Who, prodding with his cane the grass, 
Advanced into the scene. 
•'She calls me old," the man remarked, 
" What does your grandchild mean ?" 

IX. 

The forester looked at the man, 

Half sternly, half amazed, 
Then in the latter's soul began, 

Even as he blankly gazed, 
A revelation of the truth, 

Ere a reply was phrased. 



15 



THB SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



X. 

" I see myself as in a glass, 
Whea we are side by side, 
Before my Retrospection pass, 
The way our days did glide, 
And you are Age, and I Decay, 
The difference is wide. 

XL 

'* For I have lived in silken ease. 
In luxury and sloth, 
My only thought myself to please, — 

i lost the ways of growth, 
I fed this frame but starved my soul, 
And so mistreated both." 

XII. 
The forester, — "I cannot speak. 

In words of courtly speech, 
You seem to me of those who seek 

To banish God from reach, 
And Pleasure as the guide of man, 

Instead of Duty teach. 

XIII. 

"You built like those on Shinar's plain, 

A tower defying Heaven ; 
You scoffed at Time, and sought to gain, 

What never yet was given. 
Felicity to sinful men, 

Whose guilt is still unshriven, 

XIV. 
" Y'ou scoffed at Time, and in revenge, 
It points at you to mock. 
That Time which makes e'en stars to change. 

Makes you its laughing stock. 
While you are dreaming you are young 
Age brings its deadliest shock. 



16 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



XV. 

" You deemed your palace of delight 

Secure, — look back and see ! 
Behold the Summer lightning smite 

Its crumbling masonry." 
Even as he turned, the hungry flames, 

Had licked it ravenously. 

XVI. 
Like as of old, when God destroyed 

The Cities of the Plain, 
He viewed a vast, volcanic void. 

Where nothing did remain. 
Of all its wealth of human pride, 

But salt and slime and rain. 

XVII. 
And she, beloved as beautiful, 

He saw her as she was, 
A lure to souls the Fiend would cull, 

A curse, an incubus, 
A skeleton by Hell disguised. 

To lead him madly thus. 

XVIII. 
Her lovely vesture was revealed 

As filthy rags, and worse, 
A festering corpse all unaneled. 

She was, escaped the hearse. 
And from the fleshless lips welled forth 

The echo of a curse. 

XIX. 

" Oh fool ! that, for a mortal day, 

Eternity mistook, 
And so enamored of this clay, 

The Infinite forsook. 
And when the Saviour passed your way 

Would not bestoyv a look. 



17 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



XX. 

You scorned the Dark, a curse of light, 

Your eyes shall e'er survey, 
Ten thousand years, no sleep, no night, 

For which your soul shall pray. 
Ten thousand more, and then a Voice, 

Shall speak,— you worshiped Day.' 

XXI. 

Another long, ten thousand years. 

Of wakefulness and moan. 
And utter loneliness and tears. 

Where Chaos holds her throne. 
And then the selfsame Voice shall cry 

' You chose to be alone.' 

XXII. 

' And in the horror of that glare, 

In solitude betrod. 
You shall call out to One to spare, 

And lift from you the rod. 
The Voice shall answer, ' 'Tis too late, 

For you have banished God.' " 

XXIII. 
The man fell down as in a swoon, 

And long in terror lay, 
And in the darkening sky, the moon 

Rose o'er departing day. 
The man cried out " Oh holy Night !" 

The child, " 'Tis time to pray." 

XXIV. 

The three knelt down with one accord, 

The forester, the man. 
And the sweet child, whose trembling word. 

Her evening prayer began ; 
And at her simple orisons. 

The man's warm tears outran. 



18 



THE SIREN OF THE WOODS. 



XXV. 

Oh blessed tears ! for many years, 

The first his eyes had shed, 
'Tis ne'er to late to baffle Fate, 

When souls seek God instead ! 
But when they rose the man still knelt, 

The child asked "Is he dead ?" 

XXVI. 
Not dead but living, happy child !" 

The grandsire then replied. 
His prayerful lips you see have smiled, 

Though he is tearful eyed. 
Repentance brought his soul to God, 

His body only died." 




19 



Of this poem there have been 
printed 25 copies in Strath- 
more deckle edge paper and 
6 copies in Japanese vellum 



PRESS OF RICHARD PICKERING, BROOKLYN, N. Y. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




I 



016 165 279 9 # 



^ 



